


The Dark

by Lonely_Lovely_Hobbit



Category: Sherlock (BBC)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 19:26:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3822007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lonely_Lovely_Hobbit/pseuds/Lonely_Lovely_Hobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Revealing the past of the innocents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dark

It wasn't as peaceful in the flat as most people would like. Rain pelted the roof and was thrown against the outer walls. Sherlock laid in his bed, listening to the thunder rolling above him. He smiled, thinking it as soothing. That's when he heard it. It was a small, muffled whimper coming from the other side of his door. He sat up, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to establish the sound. Swinging his legs off the bed he stood, taking his robe off the hook and sloppily putting it on. Sherlock opened his door, and walked over to John's. He put his ear to the door, listening intently. The whimper came again, louder. 

He messed with the door knob, it being unlocked. With his hand pressed against it, he slowly opened it. John lay on his bed, asleep but tensing furiously and whimpering. Sweat visibly ran down the sides of his face. Sherlock went over to him, shaking him roughly. 

"John, John wake up." John simply tensed away, clearing not wanting to be touch. "John, it's me." He tried again. Doing the same thing again, John tensed. Sherlock shook him harder

"JOHN" He shook, John flinched and pressed himself against the bed. His breath was heavy and he stared up at Sherlock in fear. He trembled, the lightening that lit illuminated their faces. Sherlock cupped his face gently, his facial expression softening. He leaned down and pressed his lips to his forehead tenderly. "It's alright, John." He whispered. John sighed, relaxing a little more and leaning into his hand. 

"D-did I wake you?" He whispered, his voice sad and quiet. Sherlock shook his head and smiled a little. 

"No, I was listening to the rain." He laid down beside John, moving so John's head rested in the crook of his shoulder. Sherlock wrapped his arm around John's waist, the core muscles in John's torso loosening greatly. It made him smiled as the vibe of the room softened into a gently, hum like sensation. 

Suddenly, in a small whisper, John spoke:

"It was about the war. My troop..." He sighed softly, his voice falling off. Sherlock kissed his temple gently. 

"Shh, it's alright." He pulls him closer, protectively. Tomorrow, his PTSD would be worse and it would NOT be a good day.


End file.
